I believe that every person is made of stories.

That from the moment memories are written into the pages of hearts and souls all over the world, people become authors.

The most beautiful and tragic happenings are etched into their bones.

The stories are manifested in creases on their bodies and exhaustion in their eyes.
Tales of love and despondency manipulate their way into the veins and surge through one’s body with every pulsation of a beating heart.

A single person contains a million stories, but keeps silent for the fear of telling a story unworthy of any other author’s appreciation.

I’m afraid it is a sad, sad world.

A sad, sad, beautiful world.

—  Rachel Birnstiehl